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enigmaticexplorer · 6 months

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I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XI

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General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers.

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.2K

22 Melona

Kazi regarded her sister with an impassive expression. Tapping her fingers against her crossed arms, she glanced at her chrono. “I will force it down your throat.”

Anger twisted Daria’s mouth and she chugged the iridescent blue potion. Grimacing—either at the taste or the knowledge her hallucinations wouldn’t return today—Daria set aside the bottle and pressed her lips together.

The silence between them was thicker than the humidity outside.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Kazi said stiffly. “But I—”

Daria turned on her heel and walked away.

Kazi stared after her sister. A part of her felt guilty for controlling Daria. And yet she couldn’t muster the energy to really care. Her sister’s negligence had most likely aggravated her disease’s progression, and it was all for hallucinations.

Gritting her teeth, Kazi wandered out of the room and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. It was the sight of the little girl at the kitchen table that drew her from her frustrations.

Neyti was awake earlier than usual. Her hair was rumpled and her eyes downcast. A glass of lemon juice, untouched, rested within reach of her fingers but she ignored it, picking at a spot on the table.

From his stool, Wolffe eyed Neyti, his brows furrowed in confusion. He gave Kazi a questioning look and she shook her head, starting on breakfast.

As she sliced a loaf of bread, she could feel Wolffe watching her—feel the silent demand for an explanation. But it was his words from long ago, his accusation that made it too difficult to meet his gaze.

You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker.

She didn’t want Wolffe to know about yesterday. She didn’t want his judgment. Even if she deserved it.

Bread toasted and smoothed with a jam Daria had made, Kazi set the plate in front of Neyti and took a seat at the table. The little girl frowned at the missing lumina berries and scrambled eggs.

“I was thinking,” Kazi started, “we could go to the Marketplace today. The vendors are setting up for the Harvest Festival and I’ve heard there’s good food to try.”

Flattening her palms beneath her thighs, to stop herself from wringing them, Kazi surveyed Neyti’s somber face. The exhaustion dulling Neyti’s skin. The smudges beneath her eyes.

“If you’re interested,” she added lamely.

Neyti lifted a piece of toast, appraising the jam. A tentative swipe of her tongue and her eyebrows raised. She took a small bite and chewed. Another bite was followed by a sip of the lemon juice.

Accepting that both Daria and Neyti would be ignoring her for the day, Kazi pushed away from the table. She didn’t fault Neyti. Little Kazi would have done the same. But hopelessness—the acceptance of her failure and the self-hatred it evoked—yawned within her, dark and hollow. Vacuous like the cold emptiness of a black hole.

Kazi started to step away but Neyti lifted her head. She dipped her chin.

The nod was small and hesitant, and Kazi hated the knowledge she was the cause of Neyti’s renewed reclusiveness. But she forced herself to smile. To appear unaffected.

“Okay,” she said hoarsely. “We’ll leave when you finish.”

As Neyti finished her breakfast, Kazi washed the dishes, trying to concentrate on her task rather than the accusatory thoughts spearing her mind. A restless sleep last night and the remnants of shame made it difficult to escape her mind, so she shifted her attention to Wolffe. The sleeves of his white shirt were shoved up his forearms. His hair was still damp from a recent shower. He was studying her, and she raised an eyebrow in question.

“You look tired.”

Turning off the faucet, she threw him a bland look. “You must have been popular with women.”

His eyes narrowed and he slid a sidelong glance in Neyti’s direction. “What happened?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” Drying her hands on a towel, she stiffened at his unflinching scowl. “It’s family-related, and has nothing to do with the magistrate or the network.”

Wolffe reclined back in his stool. “When are you giving the network our intel?”

“Tomorrow.” Kazi leaned against the counter, searching his face. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

A week ago, the men decided to accept the rebel network’s offered collaboration. They would retrieve the network’s wanted intel, and the network would pay them in return. Quite handsomely.

Kazi didn’t support the collaboration. The less contact with the network, the better. And she didn’t want Wolffe and his brothers forced into a position they didn’t want to be in. But she also knew the men. Knew they accepted the deal after much debate, consideration, and analysis of the risk-versus-cost.

“We’ve made our decision,” Wolffe said. The tick of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign of his disquiet. “We need the money.”

They lapsed into silence.

At the kitchen table, Neyti finished her toast and moved onto her lemon juice. Kazi made a mental note to visit a citrus stall. Maybe Neyti could pick some out and they could make their own version of lemon juice.

Wolffe cleared his throat. “Are you eating breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry,” she said. Just the thought of food made her stomach turn uneasily. “Anyway, we’re eating at the Marketplace.”

Wolffe tapped two fingers against the bar. “I’ll join you.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t an open invitation. “Why?”

“I need to pick up some things.” He pushed himself to his feet, regarding her suspiciously. “Don’t leave without me.”

With that, he disappeared into the basement.

Fifteen minutes later and Kazi and Neyti were buckled into the aircar. Wolffe had beat them to it, claiming the driver’s seat, and since Kazi didn’t like to drive, she didn’t offer to switch places. Instead, her attention was drawn to the coat of white paint freshening both the front door and the wrapround porch’s banister. The house looked cheerier, well-lived and inviting.

“It was Fox’s idea, and the lazy bastard passed it onto Cody,” Wolffe said. He must have noticed her staring. Shifting gears, the car rumbled forward and he shot her an inscrutable look. “We’re adding a better locking system.”

Tiredly, Kazi nodded her appreciation.

“No arguments?” Wolffe asked. The surprise in his tone was genuine.

“I’ve wanted to update the lock for months.” Her cheeks warmed at the obvious negligence and she curled her fingers into the passenger seat’s cushion. “So I think it’s a good idea. Let me know how much it costs—”

Wolffe snorted, and at her affronted glare, he rolled his eyes.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Being the first day of the two-week celebration leading to the Harvest Festival, the Marketplace was crowded. People crammed into the tight streets. Elbows knocked and shoulders jammed into one another. A greater part of the crowd consisted of humans, though the occasional sentient species stood out, much to Neyti’s intrigue.

The little girl stuck close to Kazi, her mouth parted as she took in the stalls. Stands overflowed with an abundance of brightly-colored fruits and oddly-shaped vegetables. Spices spiraled into pyramidal structures. Some towered over Neyti’s small figure.

Scents of marinating vegetables, baked bread, and roasting meats wafted through the streets. Vendors and customers argued over prices. Icy fish sailed through the air, passing from one set of hands to another.

Curiosity compelled Neyti to assess each stand, and by the time they reached a citrus stall, two hours had passed.

Delighted by Kazi’s promise to make lemon juice when they returned to the house, and awed by the lemons’ size—some larger than Wolffe’s hands—Neyti meticulously selected half a bunch. Kazi slipped them into her bag.

They finally stopped for food. Vinegared vegetables, charred pita, dollops of hummus, fried fritters. Wolffe bought a chocolate bar for Neyti, and while she was distracted, he split a second bar with Kazi. Initially, she refused it. But Wolffe was stubborn and Kazi too tired to argue, so she accepted the sweetened bar and they continued on their way.

The longer they walked, the more Kazi started to relax and enjoy herself. She smiled faintly at Neyti’s wonder and made plans to take Neyti with her the next time she went grocery shopping.

They were wandering aimlessly when a large hand grabbed her bicep and pulled her to a halt. Kazi stiffened, frowning at Wolffe’s hand. Frowning at the thumb that grazed the bare skin of her bicep in a gentle arc. She lifted her gaze to his, and even though the dark gray of his poncho shadowed his features, she could still see his eyes. The blatant surprise.

A heartbeat passed. Wolffe haphazardly released her arm, angling his chin toward a nearby stand.

“Ceaian produce,” he said gruffly. He flexed his hand, glaring at it. “I thought you… Never mind.”

Kazi glanced at the stand, reading its banner:

LOCALLY GROWN CITRUS-STAR. A CEAIAN SPECIALTY.

Her heart slowed as she gawked at the baskets of produce. At the pale orange, tear-shaped fruits.

The last time she had eaten a citrus-star she was ten. Her father had bought a bunch and brought them sailing. It was one of their last trips together.

They sat on the railing of their boat, feet dangling over the water, the sun filtering through Ceaia’s classically gray skies.

“Do you know what the citrus-star symbolizes?” her father asked. Little Kazi shook her head. “The citrus-star is a symbol of our people. Of our resilience. Through everything—the good and bad—we endure.”

Her father smiled, and though his face was weathered by endless days at sea, his smile retained his youth.

“But we can’t do it alone,” he said, voice stern. “Never alone.”

Dubiously, Kazi took a step toward the stand. And another.

It was like a dream—the dreams she wished she didn’t experience. The dreams she awoke from that left her feeling drained and lachrymose because they were so real, full of joy and comfort and sheer life.

She reached for a citrus-star; its fuzzy skin was soft to her palm, like the blubber of a dolphin. Exactly as she remembered.

Beside her, a head full of black hair, peeked into the closest basket. Neyti studied the fruit with her usual shrewdness, extending a tentative finger to stroke the citrus-star closest to her. She inhaled sharply.

“Do you remember the story of the citrus-star?” Kazi’s father asked when they had eaten their fill.

“Yes, Papa.” She smiled and her father nodded his approval. She knew the story better than any other. It was one of her favorites, after all.

Kazi bought three citrus-stars and ushered Neyti into an empty back alley, away from the loudness of the jostling crowd. Her hands trembled slightly as she squirted a few drops of sanitizer into Neyti’s palms. A splatter for herself and for Wolffe—who accepted the sanitizer with faint amusement—and she tucked the bottle into her bag.

“The citrus-star is the oldest known food on Ceaia,” she said to Neyti, passing her one of the fuzzy fruits. Neyti sniffed it. “Do you want to know the story?”

Eagerly, Neyti nodded.

Kazi felt herself smile. “Legend claims Ceaia was originally an uninhabitable planet. It was a planet dominated by fearsome creatures and lacking the nutrients required for human survival.”

To her left, Wolffe leaned against the wall of the closest building, arms crossed over his chest. Though he appeared at ease, there was a slight rigidness to his shoulders. A hypervigilance in the way he scanned their surroundings, as he had done since they first left the aircar.

Cast in shade from the Marketplace’s tarps—Eluca’s national colors (dark green, light gray, and pale yellow) used to shield patrons from the beating sun—Wolffe had removed his hood. The tarps’ shadows protected his identity enough.

Kazi offered him the second citrus-star. He hesitated, assessing it with a critical eye. Neyti watched him closely. He noticed her appraisal. An innocent, toothless smile lit her face. Wolffe accepted the citrus-star, his sigh begrudging.

“Our people originated from the Unknown Regions,” Kazi continued. “But our planet was ravaged by the explosion of our sun, so we had to leave. Back then, our people were allied with the dragons.”

Neyti tilted her head to the side, listening raptly.

“I told you that the dragons were our guardians.” Neyti nodded. “They didn’t just guard us, they were our companions. They were family—”

A snort interrupted. A male, probably a decade older than Kazi, stood at the opposite end of the alley. A death stick rested between his lips and he puffed a small cloud of smoke.

“Dragons don’t exist,” he said. Removing the stick from his mouth, he took a step closer, his eyes slowly taking her in. “Never did.”

From the corner of her eye, Neyti frowned, doubt marring her former curiosity. Kazi threw the male a disparaging glare. “There’s no evidence against their existence.”

He snickered. “With that outlook on life, you can argue the existence of anything.”

“There’s nothing wrong with naivete,” Kazi argued. “And there’s nothing wrong with believing in cultural legends.”

“You’re telling a fairytale to a kid.” He pointed a grubby finger at Neyti. “You’re filling her with nonsense—”

“That’s enough.”

The harsh clip of Wolffe’s voice startled her enough Kazi fell silent, her snarky response lost. Wolffe had stepped away from the wall and angled himself between Neyti and the male. Annoyance and antipathy replaced his casual demeanor.

“The details of our private conversation don’t include you,” Wolffe said dismissively. “Leave.”

The male spluttered. “How dare you—”

“I said leave.”

The threat in his tone convinced the outraged male to find a new place to avoid the crowds, and once the male had slunk away, Wolffe faced Kazi and Neyti, resting a shoulder against the wall. He nodded at Kazi to continue. She schooled her features—hoping to hide the frustrated flush in her cheeks—and forced herself to smile at Neyti.

“Because the dragons were our companions,” Kazi said, “they traveled far and wide to find our people a new home. They arrived on Ceaia and thought it resembled our former planet. It was perfect. Except for one thing: There was no edible food.”

Neyti frowned, hefting her citrus-star in question.

“Remember the story Daria told you about Vaeloria?” Kazi asked, starting to peel the pale orange shell of her citrus-star. Neyti reached for the pendant of her necklace, her expression solemn. Kazi released a quiet chuckle. “Vaeloria was one of the dragons searching for a new home, but when she realized the planet didn’t produce edible food, she started to cry.”

The shell of Kazi’s fruit fell open, revealing the heart of the citrus-star. The edible part.

“Vaeloria’s tears nourished the soil and from it sprouted a fruit.” Kazi flattened the five pieces of the shell. They formed a perfect star, protecting the inner, tear-shaped piece. She held out her palm. “The citrus-star.”

Neyti gasped.

“To this day the citrus-star remains the most revered fruit among Ceaians.” Kazi squatted beside Neyti and helped her peel her own fruit. The little girl admired her citrus-star. “It’s a reminder that no matter what, things will be okay.”

Kazi slid a piece of fruit into her mouth. The bitter tartness softened into an ambrosial sweetness so familiar she had to close her eyes. Her mouth watered as she chewed. It reminded her of her favorite memories.

It reminded her of home.

A quiet shuffle drew her attention and she watched Neyti take a tentative bite. Neyti stiffened. Her nose scrunched, probably at the initial astringent taste, and her eyebrows knitted together.

Slowly, she chewed her small bite, her features starting to relax—shifting from disgust to contemplation. Neyti plopped the rest of the piece into her mouth. Her cheeks bulged and Kazi breathed a quiet laugh, ducking her head to hide her amusement.

“On Ceaia we celebrate the Harvest differently from Eluca,” she said, tossing the peel of her citrus-star into a bin. “We gift our loved ones, friends, neighbors, anyone we appreciate a fruit or vegetable in remembrance of the first gift our people received.”

Neyti shoved another piece into her mouth, and Kazi returned to her own citrus-star, relishing the familiar taste.

They ate in silence, the tarps keeping the temperature tolerable.

Surreptitiously, Kazi studied Wolffe, watching as he ate his citrus-star. His initial reaction was similar to Neyti’s—surprise, dislike, intrigue—but she couldn’t tell if he liked it, or if he was eating it to be polite.

Wolffe must have felt her stare because he glanced at her. His eyes swept across her face, his expression inscrutable, and the corner of his mouth started to lift—

A hairy figure leapt from the tarps and landed on Wolffe’s shoulder.

Wolffe jerked. Kazi staggered back a step. Neyti gasped.

A monkey, its yellow eyes bulbous, perched itself on Wolffe’s shoulder. The monkey yawned, flexing sharp canines longer than Kazi’s fingers. Its tail curled, brushing Wolffe’s forehead.

Annoyed, Wolffe shoved the monkey’s tail away. “The fuc—”

“It’s a monkey,” Kazi interrupted.

She tried not to smile, but Wolffe’s clear disgust for the creature now combing through his hair was far too entertaining.

“They’re pocket-thieves,” she said, ignoring his baleful glare at her obvious amusement. “Most vendors hate them but they’re too hard to catch.”

The monkey’s tail swept along Wolffe’s forehead. Again. At his exasperated sigh, Neyti giggled, her hands pressed to her mouth and face gleaming with glee. The giggle was childish. So carefree and jubilant.

“Maybe you should paint this,” Kazi said, nudging Neyti with her elbow. “I think Mr. Wolffe would love to have this memorialized.”

Neyti giggled harder.

Wolffe shook his head and lifted his hand, probably to fling the monkey off him. The creature was oblivious to his slow and controlled movement, too absorbed with rubbing its ears.

Wolffe grabbed the monkey’s tail.

It hissed and bared its sharp canines.

Wolffe yanked the monkey from his shoulder—

A second monkey leapt from the building behind. Kazi watched, alarmed, as it swung for Wolffe. Bewildered by the surprise ambush, Wolffe released the first monkey.

The second monkey snatched the citrus-star from Wolffe’s hand and used his chest as a platform to propel itself away.

The first monkey sprinted after the second, chattering its pleasure.

They left an empty-handed Wolffe in their wake.

The dumbfounded expression on Wolffe’s face made Kazi laugh, and she pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle it. But the sheer randomness of two monkeys tag-teaming Wolffe to steal his fruit, coupled with Neyti’s giggling, was surreal.

Her stomach ached and her cheeks started to hurt.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Her laughter quieted when she noticed both Neyti and Wolffe staring at her.

Surprise widened Neyti’s eyes. She pointed a finger at her cheek and Kazi frowned, rubbing her own cheek.

Neyti grinned. A wide, toothy grin. Creasing her tawny cheeks were a pair of adorable dimples. Kazi smiled, glancing at Wolffe in the hope he noticed Neyti’s wide, effusive smile—needing someone else to share in this small moment.

However, and to her consternation, Wolffe was studying her. Studying her in a way that made her feel uncomfortably perceived. Her blood warmed to a temperature of idle caresses, and yet her stomach twisted itself into knots of unease. Her face burned and she dropped her gaze, looking to the crowded stands beyond.

“Why don’t we continue on?” she suggested.

Before they rejoined the crowds, Neyti glanced between Wolffe and her citrus-star. Her tongue poked out the side of her mouth. She seemed to be debating something of great importance. Finally, her decision made, she approached Wolffe and extended her last piece to the man.

Wolffe eyed the piece of fruit. His throat bobbed. “I’m all right, kid.”

Stubbornly, Neyti kept her hand extended. Wolffe narrowed his eyes. His gaze slid to hers and Kazi shrugged, deciding he was adult enough to deal with this on his own.

An insistent shake of the fruit from Neyti and Wolffe caved, tucking the final piece into his piece and swallowing. Neyti wiped her hands on her frilly pink dress and looked to Kazi expectantly.

Their small trio set forth.

Afternoon sunshine heated the streets; the combination of the canopied tarps and dark gray of Eluca’s stone buildings maintained a semblance of coolness.

Wolffe stepped away, telling Kazi to continue on without him, so she and Neyti wandered the aisles. Toys reminiscent of Kazi’s childhood earned a longer stop as Neyti perused each option with a careful eye. Kazi bought her an old toy that displayed film-photos with the click of a button. Neyti chose the film about constellations.

At another stand, a vendor sold a variety of knives. Kazi selected a simple carving one—the vendor’s recommended choice for wood. Nearby, she purchased a book about trauma.

They spent the longest time at a paint stand. Hailing from Alderaan, the vendor was a gentle, older man whose fingers spasmed, and yet, when he held a paintbrush, it acted like a natural extension of his own hand. Effortless and fluid.

While Neyti scrutinized two different shades of blue paint, Kazi bought a small set of paintbrushes for Cody and then stepped to the neighboring stall.

“Shopping to surprise your partner?” the vendor asked. The fresh-faced woman, probably in her forties with hair starting to gray, smiled suggestively. “We have matching bra and underwear sets—”

“Oh, no. I’m not…” Kazi stepped back, laughing awkwardly. “I wasn’t—”

“If you’re not interested in the matching sets, we have negligees.” The woman snagged a black one from behind her stall and held it out to her. “Suitable for partners and personal interest.”

Kazi didn’t need fancy lingerie. She hadn’t been with a male in years, and her bed would probably never see the likes of one again. But she hadn’t shopped for herself in a long time. And the negligee’s simple bodice was attractive.

Approaching the stall, she accepted the lingerie, surprised by its airy, smooth material.

“Spun from spider silk on Jelucan,” the vendor explained. “It’s tear-free. Even after years of washing.”

Kazi hummed her interest, rubbing the bodice between her fingers. Sheer around the stomach. Classically gossamer around the breasts which were inlaid with simple flower designs. Thin straps and a lacy hem, the negligee would fall to the tops of her thighs.

“We’re having a deal, and a white set would complement this set perfectly.” The vendor retrieved a lacy bralette and matching thong. She pushed them toward Kazi, her smile genuine. “I have a changing room just behind here.”

“That’s alright.” Kazi set aside the negligee. “I don’t need—”

“What do you think, sir?” the vendor interrupted. “Do you think she should buy it?”

A hand reached over her shoulder to feel the material. Kazi followed the length of the arm and found Wolffe standing behind her. He cocked his head to the side. “It’s silky.”

“It is.” She did a double take. “What are you—What—”

“It’d look nice with your robe,” Wolffe offered.

Huffing her exasperation, Kazi snatched the negligee from Wolffe, ignored the smirk curving his mouth, and returned the item to the vendor, wincing apologetically.

The woman winked. “I can keep this on reserve for you—”

“No.” Kazi backed away, her smile tight. “I’m okay. But thank you.”

Before the vendor could offer another deal, she walked away, Wolffe falling in step beside her.

“You want some privacy to buy it, I can step away—”

“Fuck off.”

A quiet chuckle emanated from the arrogantly-humored man beside her and Kazi bit her lip, telling herself she wouldn’t smile. Telling herself she wouldn’t laugh. But she couldn’t entirely stifle her chuckle, and she thought it might have been worth it because the grin she received in return was effortless and easy. Amused and alive. The first she had seen from Wolffe.

They found Neyti still evaluating the two bottles of blue paint, and to avoid the crowded street, they stepped to the side of the stalls, giving Neyti time to finalize her decision. Wolffe leaned against the wall and surveyed their surroundings. His vigilance bordered obsessive but Kazi didn’t remark on it; instead, she took the opportunity to look him over. He was carrying two thickly-branched plants, their leaves a venomous vermilion.

Mystified, she nodded at the plants. “What are those for?”

He hesitated. “My garden.”

Frowning, she looked from the bush to his face. He didn’t have a garden—

“The structure you and Fox built,” she murmured. Gardening was such an odd hobby to ascribe to him, similar to Cody and his painting. “I didn’t know you garden.”

Setting aside the plants, Wolffe rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never had the opportunity before.”

The admittance was quiet and guarded, and he kept his attention on the crowds beyond their secluded spot.

“We already have a garden,” she said quietly. “You and Fox could have used it.”

“This is different.” At her questioning look, he shrugged. “We want something that’s self-sufficient.”

“How so?”

“We need bushes and flowers that’ll improve the garden’s efficacy.” He nudged one of the red bushes with his boot. “Nova recommended these. Said they’ll stabilize the vegetables and fruits Fox and I intend to plant. And I’m looking into harvesting pollinators—bees, of some species.”

Kazi was impressed by the effort and research he dedicated to his task. Then again, it was Wolffe. The hours he spent strategizing his missions—the calculation behind each of his decisions—proved his preparedness.

“A garden is permanent,” she remarked. “It sounds like you intend to stay for a while.”

Wolffe stiffened imperceptibly. “Is that a problem?”

“No.” Her lack of hesitation—the sincerity in her tone—earned her a slow perusal, a perusal that felt questioning, private. Intimate.

Sheepishly, Neyti interrupted, holding two tubes of paint: one dark blue and the other pink. Kazi purchased the paints, and when she turned back to Wolffe and Neyti, she found the former staring at the neighboring stall. Shaking her head, she allowed Neyti to lead them down the street, around the corner, and up a new aisle of stalls. They stopped at a flameworking demonstration.

A handful of younglings were seated on fallen logs, watching the demonstration. Fascinated by the intricate process, Neyti joined the other younglings.

Kazi stepped into a dark alcove, a soft smile on her face as she watched Neyti. Even though Neyti had lost so much in the last few months, she remained curious about the world around her. Her innocent hope and childlike optimism were admirable.

An elbow grazed hers and Kazi glanced at Wolffe. He was raking a hand through his hair, brushing the curls from his forehead, his hood fallen around his shoulders. His hair was recently cut, the sides faded once more, the top longer. Long enough someone could run their fingers through it and tug.

“I don’t know what happened yesterday,” Wolffe said quietly, his gaze locked on Neyti, “but you’re a good pare—”

“Don’t.” Tension replaced the ease she had felt a moment ago and Kazi swallowed, looking away from his confused scowl to the gathered younglings. She didn’t want his pitiful attempt to make her feel better.

“Ennari—”

“Please don’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I know I’m not good at this, and I’m not interested in gratification.”

Wolffe stood close enough it was hard to ignore him. He cleared his throat. “Did you know her mother?”

“No. Daria and I were in the capital when…” she tapered off. “We were in the capital trying to find her a cure when everything happened. We were at the transport station when Neyti’s mother arrived. I didn’t know her. She shoved Neyti into my arms and begged me to take care of her. So I promised her I would.”

“Promises are important to you,” he said.

“They are.”

Wolffe cocked his head to the side. “Why did the Empire attack?”

Kazi loosed a brittle breath. “I’m surprised you don’t know.”

“I deserted right after the war’s conclusion.” He searched her face. “I’ve heard the propaganda. That’s it.”

“The propaganda’s fairly accurate,” she said. “Our government agencies were spying on important military intel. We did it throughout the war—against both the Republic and the Confederacy. We thought we were safe. We thought the Empire wouldn’t dare attack us.”

Scoffing, she glanced at Neyti.

“But the Empire didn’t like being spied on. They didn’t like some backwater planet accessing, analyzing, and disseminating their intelligence. So they made an example of us.”

It was six months after the Empire had risen to power.

She remembered the comm call from Aeli, her fellow graduate. Her coworker. The only person she considered more than an acquaintance.

“Kazi! They’re here. You have to run.”

She remembered the panic in Aeli’s voice. The harshness in her breaths. Like she was running.

She remembered Aeli’s urgency.

“Get on a ship and don’t come back. I’ll—”

She remembered the way Aeli gasped. The loud swish of a blaster bolt. The crackling on the comm. And then the silence.

“We were a warning to other planets,” Kazi murmured. “To the early rebels, that rebellion was futile.”

Transferred between ships at a transport station, she overheard the whispered conversations between people. Their hushed fears and worries. Their grim condolences.

“They destroyed our government buildings and slaughtered anyone with connections to the government.”

The noise of the Marketplace’s streets quieted.

“And the worst thing is that the Empire doesn’t operate on Ceaia. They left, because Ceaia doesn’t offer them anything of value.” Her throat constricted. “From what I know, less than a hundred Imperials work out of the capital. Less than a hundred. Goes to show how many people survived the Purge.”

“There could be others,” Wolffe said. “Like you.”

“Maybe.” Her vision blurred and she shrugged. “It doesn’t make sense why I survi—”

Kazi winced, rubbing her chest. Her survival was something she ignored, because if she thought about it for too long, she didn’t understand why—

“Being the commander of a battalion meant sending men into battle.” Wolffe’s voice was low, rough, and she stilled, scanning the hardened planes of his face. “I sent them into battle knowing some of them would die. I lost a lot of men over the years. I lost brothers.”

“Wolffe is single-minded when it comes to his goals. He will run these missions—and run himself ragged—until he either shifts his focus elsewhere or learns to live with the guilt.”

“Guilt for what?”

“Surviving the war.”

“That’s why you’re spying for the network.” Wolffe lowered his face to hers and she tensed. “I didn’t get it. But now I know—”

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“I’ve seen it in Fox. I’ve seen that same look in his eyes.”

They were standing close enough she could smell him—smell the scent of his soap and something so familiar it made her heart ache.

“You have it too,” she whispered. “For different reasons, but you have the same look.”

He held her gaze. “I know.”

Masterlist | Chapter 10 | A Muse

A/N: Wolffe’s “I said leave.” was directly inspired by the 1999 The Mummy scene with Rick O’Connell’s “You’re in her seat. Move.”

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